


I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home

by Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot



Series: Tales From New Chicago [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcoholism Causes Impaired Memory, Dysphoria, M/M, Trans Character, trans!Dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-02 23:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6587410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot/pseuds/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a slip of the tongue ruins his day, only Karkat knows how to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Gonna Make This Place Your Home

**Author's Note:**

> So, hey! OMG I'm writing Homestuck again. HA! Actually surprise, surprise, I've been working on I Don't Believe in Fairytales for the better part of the last week or so. So the next chapter of that should be coming out soon.
> 
> This takes place after it, but doesn't really have a set timeframe for how long after. Just know that this was going on in the background of that, even if it wasn't obvious.
> 
> Inspired by [Gelasticat's awesome art](http://gelasticat.tumblr.com/post/142980654167) which she then gave me permission to write on because I was sorta feeling like Dave earlier today. Thanks bunches, Sophie!!
> 
> Enjoy!

Mom was on the phone when he took his headphones off for the first time that evening. Being Sunday there were no classes, but that didn’t stop Egbert from running off, or Harley from having work, or… well, he didn’t want to think about his sister, with her plush internship upstate. She wouldn’t be back for a couple more weeks, apparently researching some even more brain-liquefying eldritch horrorterror than Squishy. But he was resolutely not thinking about her, her pet lovecraftian beast, or her precious fucking escape—AUGH!

Leaning back in his computer chair he rubbed at his eyes under his shades. Why did it have to be Mom’s weekend? And why did they even have to keep up with this shit!? They were over eighteen. Didn’t that count for something?

Oh right. College.

He sighed, hitting a quick ctrl+s on his keyboard to save the latest changes to his mix, and stood, popping his back in a handful of places as he stretched his arms over his head.

Early summer heat invaded the cluttered room, and he was fairly sure the abundance of technology, both human and trollian, didn’t help. Even his game grubs were all tuckered out in their aquarium. He had three fans going and his shirt _still_ stuck to his skin.

Time for some class A AJ.

Flash-stepping to the kitchen to avoid disturbing his mother, he paused in front of the fridge just long enough to let the coolness sink into his teeshirt and shorts. Fuck the heat anyway. The choice between cloying sweat, dehydration and hyperventilation versus alleviating his body dysmorphia… it all came down to whether or not he was willing to glue his nipples to his ribs in a flood of body juices designed to keep him cool while doing absolutely fuckall to actually help the situation.

And ultimately, the answer was no. No he was not.

It wasn’t like he was planning on going anywhere today anyway. He had a free afternoon and a harddrive of brand new samples to mix. The campus DJ wasn’t gonna come up with his own shit, so somebody had to make sure the students didn’t lose their brains through their eardrums thanks to syrupy over-played pop shit.

So no binder it was.

Then he heard it.

“Yeah, no, have you ever been up here before?” Mom’s voice filtered out of her computer room, “Yeah, just text me. My daughter’ll probably be asleep on the couch when you get here. She has a habit of being up late.”

Daughter.

She.

Fuck.

Not Rose. Precious Rose was off following her dreams of reenacting the most depraved classics of Beforan hentai! And not Kanaya, though the jadeblooded troll lesbian spent enough time on their couch she could easily be considered another daughter of the Strilonde family. Nope. Because she was off _helping_ Rosalind Fucking Lalonde achieve her cliché blonde hentai protagonist ambitions!

So that left…

Fuck.

Suddenly the juice in his mouth tasted like ash, and the crawling nausea of shark week gripped his stomach. He was acutely aware of the feeling of cotton on his nipples, and the weightlessness of air around his groin. His breath caught in his chest, and behind his shades, the pupils of his eyes shrank to pinpricks.

Deep breath. One. And two. Onnne. And twoooooo.

Flipping the cap back on the bottle, he stashed it back in the fridge, shoved his hands in his pockets, and affected absolute indifference as he invaded his mother’s study.

He didn’t even wait until she hung up the phone, “Heading out. Be back at some point. Don’t wait up.”

“Li—!” His flashstep back to his room cut her off, and the next sound in the apartment was the finite not-quite-slam of the front door.

“Strider?” Karkat’s voice was decidedly groggy and adorable when woken up before sunset. “The fuck are you calling this fucking early for?”

“Lookin’ for a cool place to chill before I melt into a smear of Egbert’s ectoplasmic goo in the hallway, sinking into the carpet like somebody’s abandoned juicy-juice box. I’m tipping on my side here, Vantas, dripping out through the tiny ass straw hole, one semi-congealed drop at a time. Better open the fuck up before I stain the floor in an eternally sticky spot that will perpetually pull at every person’s shoe, like what the fuck dude I just stepped in gum or some shit. But wait, there’s nothing there. It was absorbed into the cheap commercial carpet fibers, leaving behind nothing more than—“

“Okay! Jesus fuck! Shut up! I’m coming.”

A few seconds later—twelve and two-thirds to be exact—the door to casa de Vantas opened to reveal a very grumpy, nubby-horned redblood with serious bedhead and sopor slime still clinging to the places where his skin had bunched in his sleep. He wore a shirt that probably had been too small on him a sweep ago, and shorts similar to the ones Dave had been wearing before being forcibly ejected from his comfy zone.

The troll yawned wide enough to show off all of those amazingly pointy fangs, while unconsciously scratching at the edges of his gills. He had no idea it made the cotton pull across his muscles like some ebony-carved Apollo in living color.

“Y’know you’re not supposed to just drop in out of the fucking sky like this. What if Gamzee had been here? Or Eridan?” Karkat groused, backing away from the door and pretending not to notice the backpack on Dave’s shoulder.

Silence meant that the albino human had merely shrugged in response.

“Whatever. You got lucky. C’mon. Mom’s out with Meenah and Granddad, Dad’s staying over at the Cathedral, and Eridan’s checking out some kind of nudist colony in the park. So at least until tomorrow morning, the place is ours. Don’t ask me where the fuck Gamzee is, I don’t know, I don’t want to know, and I swear to everything that isn’t fucking nailed to a goddamned execution strut that if you ask about how that’s going I will turn you out on the fire escape to bake in the sun myself.” They crossed into the kitchen, Karkat pulling a bottle of fresh apple juice from the back of his fridge to plunk down on the counter, sans cap, with a concerned glare. “Now, what the fuck happened this time?”

“And you say I talk too much, fuck.” But the corner of his mouth was pulling up outside of his control. He set his bag at his feet and took a drink from the bottle of juice, “Mom was being her usual forgetful self.”

“How many times do we have to go over what a fuckup it is to _not_ call her out on that shit? Literally everybody else gets it. Or if they don’t get it, like fucking Egbert, they at least give enough of a shit about you to respect your call on it.” Karkat growled. “Even Zahhak gets it, and he’s so fucking uptight the stick up his ass is complaining.”

“Dude. Ew. The last thing I wanna think about is shit related to self-repressed douchebags that don’t know when to fucking quit.” Dave shuddered. “You know he was trying to hit on Bro the other day?”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, shit was fucked up, man. Bro’s all cool and shit, talking robotics and fully integrated whatevers in relation to Tav’s new upgrade, and Equius dude, he’s all breathing heavy and sweating all over the fucking place. I swear every time he has to talk to Bro alone, he damn near creams himself.”

Karkat raised an eyebrow, “Not that he isn’t usually a disgusting closed-minded asshole, but doesn’t Dirk usually have shittons of extremely delicate shit just lying around his shop?”

“Yeah. So? Eq-bro works with the same kinds of shit all the time.”

“But breaking your own shit is a fuckton different than breaking someone else’s shit. Especially someone that he respects.”

“Whatever.” Dave sucked down another gulp of apple juice, leaning with his back against the kitchen counter.

In the silence that followed, Karkat watched his human friend. Well, maybe friend was the wrong word. Did human friendships span over literally all the quadrants? Including occasional sex that could either be red or black depending on time of the perigee? It wasn’t something either of them broadcast, and it only happened during times like this. When Dave was particularly bent out of shape about his body, and nobody was in the house to know what they were doing.

So as soon as the bottle of apple juice was empty, Karkat crossed the distance between them. He regarded Dave through his blackout shades for a few moments. The human barely reached the middle of his thorax after all. Then he bent down and gently nipped his bottom lip. His fingers felt thick and rough against the too-smooth point of Dave’s jaw, but it served to tilt his head up so they could meet mouth to mouth. With his other hand, he slipped around behind him, palming his ass so that their fronts were smushed together.

“Kar.” Dave breathed between kisses. “Karkles wait.”

Pulling back the troll’s ever-present scowl took on an air of confusion as his head tipped to the side, showing a tiny bit of throat.

“It’s too fuckin’ hot, dude.”

Realization dawned with a soft, “oh.”

As if that made everything obvious!

His shirt was the first to go, pulled off in a single motion that left him in his binder in plain sight, in the middle of the kitchen. He started to put his hands on Karkat’s shoulders to push him back because getting discovered like that was just a huge flashing no, but the troll sank to his knees, kissing sweetly down the center of Dave’s stomach from the edge of his binder down. His hands were warm and comforting on his hips, and the nip of fangs against the peachfuzz of his happy trail tingled things further down.

Trolls, as a whole, didn’t do oral. Too many fangs, and too much going on down there to be viable anyway. Hell, half of them had spines and shit! But Karkat did. Both giving and receiving—after significant couching from Dave—because it was one of the only ways to get Dave off. Nook penetration was an immediate turn off, and in the heat of things, Karkat couldn’t always control his wiggly to keep outside of people’s body cavities. So the next best thing was to pull down Dave’s jeans and boxers to suck on the tiny bulge he had at the top of his nook.

All Dave could do as he proceeded to do just that was grip the counter, breathing and flooded with feel-good hormones.

After his peak calmed, Karkat pulled away and cursed, “Damnit Strider! You got your freaky human material all over my chin! How many shirts do you have ruin before you fucking admit that you’re just as fucking messy as a troll without a bucket!”

Throwing his head, the laugh that bubbled up from his toes felt cleansing and whole. “Never, dude! I just wanna see you shirtless. Always. No more shirts. Shirts are the enemy. Shirts are—mmph!”

Karkat shut him up with a dominating kiss. Though the taste of his own jizz on the troll’s tongue wasn’t exactly a desired flavor, it wasn’t bad, and the press of Karkat’s tiny titties against his binder made him melt inside. He didn’t know when he wrapped his arms around the troll’s neck, but he was hoisted up with two thick palms on his asscheeks, and unceremoniously dropped on the couch in front of the Vantas Family Widescreen.

“Shut up and play the game, Dave.”

“Heh.” He took the wireless controller with a skilled flick of his thumb over the power button. “Anything for you, babe.”

Karkat rolled his eyes, adjusting the system with the TV remote. He plopped down next to his human matespri-friend, without comment, and he was indeed, shirtless.


End file.
